


The Tenth Circle of Hell

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, During Canon, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-02-24
Updated: 2008-02-24
Packaged: 2018-09-03 11:06:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8710150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: Sam angsting over Dean via The Inferno.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** This is my second fic, first posting. Feedback is quite welcome.
> 
> Thanks to SylvanWitch for the great beta. Any remaining problems are entirely my fault.

Title : The Tenth Circle of Hell

Author: jdax

Summary: Sam angsting over Dean via _The Inferno._

Disclaimer: I own nothing. It’s all about Kripke and a little about Dante.

 

 

_Dante got it wrong,_ Sam thought.

 

_Way wrong._

 

For other students who were preoccupied with pretty much everything but school, _The Inferno_ was an annoying obstacle in the way of seeking pleasure. For Sam, it was a cautionary tale.

 

Initially, when he read it at fourteen, he belonged to that first group. He brought the book home and waded through it over the course of a month, when it wasn’t serving as a doorstop or being lost altogether under piles of comic books or - _yeah, he’d admit it now_ \- skin mags. Back then, hunting was new to him. He didn’t believe in all that afterlife crap and fear was readily vanquished by _Gameboy._ There were bad things in the world, sure, but he didn’t believe in Hell. His distant and as yet indifferent assumption was that whatever awaited him after death couldn’t be worse than what he faced in everyday life. 

 

At twenty-four, when he read it again, he was absolutely convinced of that, but for a very different reason.

 

Circle One: 

 

It starts out slow. A look, maybe, that seems to last just a split second too long. Sam is sure he’s just being paranoid. Too much caffeine and not enough sleep. Nothing to worry about. 

 

Circle Two:

 

Still not getting enough sleep, but when Sam does drop off that cliff into the arms of oblivion, it’s bittersweet. Dreams of Dean chase him down all night until he wakes up shaking, sweating and looking for all the world like he’s been running for his life. When Dean magically arrives at his side to comfort him, Sam really can’t tell if the dream is over. It bothers him even more when he can’t tell if he wants it to be.

 

Circle Three:

 

The dreams chase him into the daylight. He starts to look at Dean differently, but he’s not sure what’s different. Maybe nothing, maybe everything. Maybe just the fact that he’s looking at all. He listens to Dean, laughs at his lame jokes and argues with him, just like always. Thing is, Sam didn’t used to feel the need to jack off every night after Dean went to sleep. 

 

Circle Four:

 

Sam starts looking for excuses to touch him. When they walk into a hunt, he leans in, pressing into his brother’s shoulder- _a sign of support, camaraderie and protection,_ he reasons. When Dean gets injured, Sam lingers over the wounds, regretful that he is prolonging Dean’s discomfort but unable to draw himself away from the sight, smell and feel of his skin. When else is he going to be able to touch him like this? _When…?_

 

When Sam is injured, Dean works at a methodical but quick pace to close up the wound. Sam thinks it bothers Dean to see him in pain, but all Dean will ever admit is that he doesn’t like needles. Sam can’t extrapolate more than that; Winchesters are experts at burying things.

 

Circle Five:

 

Now Sam is armed with sense memory. He lays awake and waits until Dean has been snoring for at least thirty minutes before he allows himself to slip into the dark reverie of his fantasies. On nights when the hunt went bad, he has to wait longer as Dean fights off his personal demon named _Failure_ before _Sleep_ finally forgives him. Sam finds no such solace, only the beckoning agony of unfulfilled _Desire_ night after night. He still blushes when he comes, imagining it is Dean’s mouth where his hand is as he tortures himself through his orgasm, only to find _Frustration_ and _Emptiness_ awaiting him again on the other side.

 

Circle Six:

 

He starts to feel like he’s being punished. Shouldn’t Dean notice things have changed? Shouldn’t Dean notice _he’s_ changed? Sam finds himself clinging to those looks longer and longer, seeking out Dean’s gaze and holding it until he’s sure Dean will have to ask why. He clutches Dean’s arm in a crushing, bruising grip for no apparent reason, but all Dean does is flash him another look. Why won’t he just fucking ask, “Sam, what do you want?” 

 

Circle Seven:

 

Sam is on the verge of telling Dean, whether he asks or not. Those nights of jacking off to the memory of Dean’s hands on his back and arm after a nightmare aren’t cutting it anymore. He wants to _feel_ him, touch him in ways that are illegal in all fifty states and laugh about it with him in the morning. He wants to wrap his whole body around Dean and send them both to the _Special Hell_ over and over and over again. 

 

And yes, he’s starting to be a believer.

 

 

Circle Eight:

 

Sam sits at the local bar and spends several hours downing some liquid courage before he decides to tell Dean, once and for all, consequences be damned. If Dean is disgusted and shocked, well, that’s his problem. He deserves it for ignoring Sam. For not noticing. For being an insensitive, oblivious, self-centered bastard. Sam takes another swig. Yeah, the sweet talk definitely needs some work.

 

 

Circle Nine:

 

Whatever resolve Sam built up is promptly torn down the moment he sees Dean and his blindingly brilliant smile. Thing is, he’s not flashing that smile at Sam tonight but at a woman he’d met a week ago, and it looked to Sam like she wasn’t going to be just another _bimbo de jour._ Sam grits his teeth and grips his beer bottle when the word _dating_ tumbles out of Dean’s mouth. When Sam smiles and clinks glasses with them, he can’t help but think that he’s watching her steal his life. No demon ever made him feel so helpless.

 

Circle Ten:

 

Sam’s convinced that he’s already _in_ Hell; what else could he call watching the love of his life slowly slip away? The happiest day in recent memory was the day they finished their case and drove away, leaving her standing alone on the sidewalk, but not before Sam had watched Dean press a long, loving kiss to her mouth. That memory haunted him because he knew now that he’d never have that, not from Dean. Sam wanted his brother to look at him like that, like he was going blind and he wanted Sam’s face to be the very last thing he’d remember. He’d seen between them the beginnings of something he knew was already over for him.

 

But, Sam clings to it the only ways he knows how. He laughs with Dean, argues with him, laughs at his lame jokes and tries to casually touch him when he can. He gets himself injured a couple of times on purpose and endures a few hurtful comments from Dean about his carelessness, but it’s a small price to pay to feel his touch, even if he is just trading one pain for another. 

 

The twin burdens of _Knowledge_ and _Silence_ weigh just a little more with every laugh, every look. Sometimes, Dean opens his mouth, frowning, as if to ask something- _anything_ -to relieve Sam of _his_ look, but when the moment arrives, _Courage_ **always** fails them both.

 

 

\---The End


End file.
